Monday, November 25, 2013

You will wake, to the sounds of quickly rustling sheets
And dreamlike whispers that appear to emanate from lifeless tassels of brand new linen
Mangled into the urgent confusion that is quickly taking over your mind.

The curious breeze against your bare essentials
As you grope the darkness for what is left of your modesty
The old time friend you had kindly offered to share your bed, will be nowhere to find.

There are words we dare not speak, lest we give life to our mortal fears.
But heaven forbid that the sheets speak the truth
...then karma will be like a Birch tree
Savagely reduced into these jagged spears, that now stoke in smoldering embers, waiting for you...dear friend.

Friday, November 15, 2013

I often consider myself to be a reasonably civil 'white-collared slave' in my starched shirt and professional 'poker face', until fate finds me in a lone elevator with my earphones plugged in, then all hell breaks loose.

Today it was 'black magic' crooning 'confam' with 'sasha p.' and it was friday morning after a long tiring week. My fumbled and ghastly laughable etighi moves took over. This is my shameless confession - I loose all semblance of decorum and dance etighi like no man's business when I'm alone in an elevator. It's like an evil spirit from 'Banky W' takes over my body.

I got caught out today. You know how it is when your song starts on the radio and you go "shoooo, that's my song!!!" and promptly, i leaned my neck forward like a starved turkey, stuck my butt out like a deranged fool and cracked one unconscious etighi side-step before quickly remembering that I wasn't alone in the elevator.

Two starched-faced white folks looked briefly at me, and for the life of me, I couldn't come up with a witty comeback fast enough. To confirm my theory that my actions are manifestations of an evil spirit from my village, I returned a stupid cheeky smile that could only have looked like osufia's and hurried out at the next exit.

Someone asked me today how I often appear to be collected and in control (in other words, 'like a boss'. He didn't add that last bit, but it's good therapy to often massage your own ego). I thought to myself, 'you should see what I do in the elevator'.

I believe that one thing nigerians do best, is to not allow anybody make us feel inferior. And i sort-of don't think this is another ego trip, because I've been told same by a few other african folks. It appears that a common opinion is that nigerians generally have an exaggerated / unnecessarily high opinions of ouselves. Even for all the bad press that is hardly anyhing to be proud of.
I think that my many years of telling unruly danfo drivers to 'go and hug transformer' has served me in good stead to generally not give a f&$....even when the truth is that, irrespective of my best poker face, all I often feel like is, plain and average- a crazed wanna-be professional who dances etighi when no-one is looking.

But if a two minute elevator madness moment continues to give me the pump to get through each day in this high stake craziness I have signed myself into, then ain't nothing wrong with that and God bless Banky, and Black Magic and Sasha P.